


Good Enough

by Black_Crystal_Dragon



Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Genre: Comfort, Companionable Snark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode: s12e02 Siliconia, Gen, Hurt Arnold Rimmer, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:47:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24542584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Crystal_Dragon/pseuds/Black_Crystal_Dragon
Summary: “I remember what you said on the Vespasian. That wasn’t just the mechanoid programming talking. Was it?”After their return from the mechanoid vessel, Rimmer sneaks off to the Observation Dome to brood and Lister decides to follow. Code toSiliconia.
Relationships: Dave Lister & Arnold Rimmer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Good Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I watched _Siliconia_ for the first time the other day and immediately wrote this (before I could bring myself to watch the rest of the series). The things Rimmer said as a mechanoid hit me in a place I did not expect to be hit and I could not let it go.
> 
> I’m a long time _Red Dwarf_ fan and fic writer/reader but I’ve never ventured into this fandom before, so hi. ~~I’m scared.~~

The observation dome always felt a bit chilly to Lister. It was all in his head: the temperature sensors told him that it was the same regulation twenty-three degrees as the rest of the ship, but something about the glass and the void of space beyond it made him shiver whenever he ventured up there. Or maybe it was just the illusion of being ‘outside’.

So when he heard Rimmer’s footsteps across their darkened quarters and the quiet swish of the door as he slipped out, he layered up in his leather jacket before he followed him.

Red Dwarf was as quiet as it ever got, with the chug of far-off engines vibrating up through the floors and the hum of ventilation and electronics behind the walls. His boots thunking along the corridors wasn’t exactly subtle. He could sneak in them, if he needed to, but he didn’t see much point tonight: he wasn’t trying to surprise Rimmer. Given the mood he’d been in since their return, it was probably for the best if he heard Lister coming a mile away. Just in case, he announced himself with deliberate heavy footfalls on the last set of stairs.

He shoved his hands into his pockets when he reached the top and eyed their warped reflections in the glass. Rimmer stood ramrod-straight as he stared into the unforgiving black, hands clenched on the railing.

“Lister,” he said. His voice was flat, his face expressionless. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, couldn’t sleep,” Lister admitted. Having his mind sucked out and put into a mechanoid body that had warped his personality into something he couldn’t even recognise hadn’t exactly set him up for a good night’s rest. He risked a glance sideways. “Thought you could use some company.”

“You should go back to bed,” Rimmer told him.

Lister shrugged but otherwise didn’t move. “Kryten did us proud today, didn’t he?”

That got a flicker of reaction, even if it was an unpleasant sneer. “If you say so.”

“He did, man. If it wasn’t for Kryten, we wouldn’t be standing here,” he reminded him, shuddering. “We’d still be mechanoids.”

He knew as the words came out of his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say, but it was too late to stop. Being a mechanoid was his idea of hell, but Rimmer hadn’t felt the same. His speech in the cells had made that clear enough, and the words flashed through Lister’s mind as he braced himself for his reaction.

A horrible bark of bitter laughter burst from Rimmer’s chest. “Yes, how wonderful for us all. Back to our usual selves, isn’t it grand?”

“Rimmer,” he murmured, but it was too late. Whatever good grace he’d had was gone.

“Just go away, Lister,” Rimmer spat. He turned away, pressing himself into the corner of the railing. “I came up here to be alone.”

“I know you did,” he said. The thing was, he didn’t think that leaving Rimmer by himself to dwell was a good idea. _It's the thinking that causes all the pain_ , after all - that was why he’d followed him out of their shared quarters in the first place. He’d hoped to maybe cheer him up, but so much for that.

When he didn’t leave, Rimmer shot him a poisonous glance. “This is the part where you smeg off. Go on, chop chop. Or you won’t have enough energy for all that lounging around playing video games you’ve got planned for tomorrow.”

Lister ignored the dig at his lifestyle. Comments like that had become so much a part of their daily routine that they didn’t sting any more, and while sometimes it was a laugh to play into the old routine of bickering with Rimmer over how he spent his time, he didn’t feel like fighting on that particular hill tonight.

“I think you should come back with me,” he said.

“No.”

“I could fix us a midnight snack,” he coaxed, half in the hopes of at least getting a rise.

The answering eye roll was evident in the tilt of Rimmer’s head, but he only repeated more firmly: “No.”

Lister rocked from his heels to his toes and back again, bouncing a little to ward off the chill. “Come on, Rimmer, you don’t want to stand out here all night. It’s freezing.”

“It is not, it’s the same temperature as everywhere else,” Rimmer scoffed. “Why do you care what I do, anyway? You don’t even like me.”

“Well, I’m in good company - you don’t like yourself much either,” Lister said, trying to make light of it, but when Rimmer flinched he knew he’d missed the mark. He sucked in a breath and placed a hand on his shoulder, expecting it to be shrugged off, but rather than pull away Rimmer relaxed a fraction under his touch. He left his hand there as he murmured, “I remember what you said on the Vespasian. That wasn’t just the mechanoid programming talking. Was it?”

Rimmer heaved in a shuddering breath and let it out again. “Well,” he said, and swallowed audibly. “Can you blame me?”

His voice had become very small. There was a thickness to it that made Lister’s heart skip in his chest, part sympathy and part embarrassment.

“Listen. You might not always want to be you, man, but I need you to be you,” he said, repaying Rimmer’s unexpected honesty with a little of his own, “With all your neuroses and your whingeing and your superiority complex -”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?” Rimmer said, incredulous, twisting to face him. Lister met his glare without flinching.

“Yeah, it is. And d’you know why? Because I choose you. Not Ace Rimmer. Definitely not Android Rimmer. You: Arnold Judas Rimmer, with your swimming certificates and your collection of telegraph poles and your smegging report book. I know every single one of your faults. Intimately. And, much as it pains me to admit it, I still wouldn’t change any of them because they’re part of what makes you you.”

Rimmer stared at him, lips slightly parted, scowl wiped clear by surprise. “You don’t - you can’t mean that.”

“But I do,” Lister insisted, shaking him gently. He heaved a sigh. “Look, man: you drive me up the wall, I’m not going to pretend that you don’t. But you’re part of the team and we wouldn’t replace you.”

“Speak for yourself - the Cat and Kryten might think a teensy bit differently,” Rimmer muttered, his normal snide tone returning as he drew himself up and stared loftily out of the dome to avoid meeting Lister’s gaze any longer.

“All right,“ Lister chuckled, because he had a point there, “But I wouldn’t replace you, smeghead. And I’m not going to let anybody else do it, either. Especially not you.”

Rimmer glanced at him, a flash of wary eye contact, and gave a tiny nod of embarrassed acknowledgement.

Lister squeezed his shoulder. “Right then: it’s past our bedtime, and I know for a fact that you’ve got a revision session at the crack of mid-morning that you’ll want to be up for.”

“Oh, what’s the point?” Rimmer grumbled even as he let Lister turn him around and usher him down the stairs.

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” Lister asked thoughtfully as they ambled along the corridor. Rimmer only replied with a sullen shrug, so he barrelled on: “Seriously, Rimmer. What’re you putting yourself through all this for? You don’t have to become an officer, you know.”

Rimmer’s face pinched even further.

“You’re already got the highest rank out of all of us. It’s not like me and the Cat are going to act any different if you do get yourself some title, and we’re not going to let you lord it over us and Kryten either,” Lister went on, trying not to shudder as he remembered the Officer Rimmer debacle. “So why bother?”

“I can’t just give up. It’d be another failure, wouldn’t it? Another smegging disappointment,” Rimmer said, spitting out the words like the thought had left a bad taste in his mouth.

Lister considered it. “No, not necessarily. It could be ... it could be a change of direction.”

“Bit late for that, Listy, don’t you think?” Rimmer said, his mouth twisting into a sad little smile.

“No it’s not. I’ve only just started studying the engineering course,” he reminded him.

“Yes, but it’s different for you,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You don’t care about success or bettering yourself.”

Lister snorted. “Thanks, guy.”

“You know what I mean,” Rimmer grimaced.

“Yeah, I do,” Lister said, taking pity on him. Aside from anything else, Rimmer wasn’t wrong - his own thwarted ambition still hung over him like a malformed parade balloon, while Lister’s, if he could find it at all, would probably rattle around with room to spare in his little toe.

Still, he wished Rimmer would realise that he could allow himself to be happy without all the things he’d convinced himself he needed. Lister had been forced to confront that, as the decades passed and Earth remained a far distant dream, let alone a farm on Fiji with Kochanski. Should he waste the rest of his days on misery because things didn’t turn out as he’d planned, or make the most of his reality? There was no contest. Yet Rimmer was stuck: resenting people who no longer existed and striving towards achievements that only mattered because of his stubborn pride.

They were silent for the rest of the walk back to the sleeping quarters. Once there, Rimmer made a beeline for his bed and Lister followed him, climbing up into his own bunk without a word and staring up at the ceiling even after Rimmer called for lights out. He rolled Rimmer’s words aboard the Vespasian around and around in his mind, trying to work out what he really wanted to say - and what Rimmer most needed to hear.

“You know, Rimmer,” he murmured after a little while, “You’re good enough to be a member of this crew just as you are. You didn’t have to pass any exams or cheat to get your job, and you don’t have to pretend to be anything you’re not to keep it. You don’t even have to pretend your backbone’s not made of custard. And I know you think you’re a failure ’cause you’re not an officer, but big deal! You do everything you need to do on board: maintenance, repairs, navigation, security, health and smegging safety - that’s just off the top of my head and it’s already more duties than most officers have to deal with across the whole of their careers, let alone all at the same time. And okay, you complain about most of it, but you still do it along with the rest of us - and we keep surviving. That’s not failure. Not to me. ”

There was silence for so long that he was sure Rimmer had fallen asleep and hadn’t heard a word he’d said. Then a very quiet voice drifted up from the bunk beneath him, asking, “Really?”

Lister grinned in the dark. “Yeah, really. But I’m just a no-good space-bum: what do I know about success, eh?”

Rimmer huffed a reluctant laugh.

“Still, we’ve been out here more than thirty years now - and we haven’t even gone space-crazy! Well, not permanently, anyway. That’s the important thing. Not bad for a couple of technicians,” Lister said as he settled himself more comfortably on his side.

“Not bad, I suppose,” Rimmer replied, and Lister could hear that he was smiling. That was as much a surprise as the agreement itself. There was a rustle from the lower bunk, as if Rimmer too had shifted into his usual sleeping position, and then a murmured, “Night, Listy.”

“Good night, Rimmer,” Lister said before he shut his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Lister’s probably too nice in this, but I needed someone to be nice to Rimmer.
> 
> I wanted this to feel like a realistic precursor to the moonlight scene in _The Promised Land_ ... I wish I could have also addressed Rimmer's horrible family and his earlier aversion to changing his memories/personality (see: _Thanks for the Memory_ ) somewhere in here - but every time I tried, it turned into a blazing row so those are maybe things for another time!


End file.
